


It's Time

by asproutling



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Mostly Gen, Orphan Shiro (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 02:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16076423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asproutling/pseuds/asproutling
Summary: For #fuckyeahshirogane week! Day 1,  Orphan“Excellent answer, Shiro! You are clearly very interested in space, aren't you?”Shiro nods his head with purpose, barely able to contain his body from bouncing wildly. “Yes, ma’am. I'm gonna be an astronaut someday!” he replies excitedly, toothy grin bright and on full display for all to see.Considering his parents, Mrs. Hulse speculates, not a far-off goal for one so bright. “I have no doubt, young man.”Later that week came news that would change Takashi Shirogane’s life forever.





	It's Time

**Author's Note:**

> For #fuckyeahshirogane week! Day 1, Orphan
> 
> Enjoy! Or not ha.

“All right, class! Can anyone tell me how many planets there are in our Milky Way solar system? Now, I know this may be a difficult question to answer, but-”

From within the sea of tiny bodies springs up a hand so quick and sure Mrs. Hulse was almost positive it’d go blasting off into space itself if it could. Momentarily stunned she jerks her attention back to the ramrod straight arm in question. “We appear to have a _star_ pupil today.” She chuckles and looks around the room, her students dazed and slack-jawed, before clearing her throat and inquiring, "May I ask whose hand is raised? Is that-”

“There are… nine planets in our solar system but, uh, Pluto wasn’t a planet- it _was_ a planet and then it _wasn't_ a long time ago, in 2006, but then it was again in 2038, after all the scientists talked… so we have _nine_ planets now, but we could have more later, or not as many…”

The small voice finally finishes its monologuing, certain yet with a hint of sheepishness, and settles back down for its teacher’s affirmation. Mrs. Hulse is pleasantly surprised with such a thorough answer--never before had she the pleasure of one of her students answering that question so completely on their very first day of school.

“Excellent answer, Shiro! You are clearly very interested in space, aren't you?” 

Shiro nods his head with purpose, barely able to contain his body from bouncing wildly. “Yes, ma’am. I'm gonna be an astronaut someday!” he replies excitedly, toothy grin bright and on full display for all to see, his hair an honest-to-goodness mess.

Considering his parents, Mrs. Hulse speculates, not a far-off goal for one so bright. “I have no doubt, young man.”

Later that week came news that would change young Takashi Shirogane’s life forever.

 

* * *

Mrs. and Mrs. Shirogane were the two top experts in their fields--astrobiology and aeronautics, respectively--and as such were called over from their native Osaka, Japan to Texas, USA with their newly born son Takashi to helm what would eventually be humanity’s greatest exploratory effort into space.

There's no denying the offer to map and travel the unknown, right? 

They acclimated to the move easily, and trained for 362 days before setting out on their mission to the outer edges of Jupiter’s many moons. No human had ever traveled so far from Earth before, they said; the mission was too ambitious, too foolhardy, too soon, _this is not going to end well._

They were wrong.

After three long years the Shiroganes, alongside one Samuel Matthew Holt, were welcomed home with open arms, and hailed by the world as heroes for reaching the outer edges of the unknown. Now four years old young Takashi hid behind and clung to his grandfather’s pant leg as his estranged parents came to greet him with tears in their eyes. Their arms and bodies were suffocating as they wrapped themselves around him with near full force, while he stood there, unfeeling, not recognizing or knowing these two bodies outside of the “many great things” one or another person would say. 

Once the buzz died down regarding their resounding success the Shiroganes became a family again, more or less. “Takashi” became “Shiro,” which his parents and grandfather accepted wholeheartedly, and Shiro began to comfortably learn who his parents were as _people_ , and not as their deeds: they were intelligent, apparently intimidatingly so; funny and outgoing, with great senses of disarming wit and humor; kind and charming faces, quick to disarm and lull any person they'd come into contact with; but most importantly, Shiro thought: they were filled with an endless amount of _love_ \--love they never seemed to stop showering him with. 

They went on family picnics, just the three of them, to the park down the road that had the “biggest and bestest” oak tree around, Shiro would state, where they would eat, laugh, talk and lie under that protective shade for hours upon hours. Family movie nights were every Thursday night, six o’clock on the dot, where he would snuggle up in the space between his two mothers, with a fuzzy blanket and the biggest bucket of popcorn. His all-time favorite, which saw the most playtime, was a colorful animation flick called “Thomas and Kai Save the World,” where two best friends fight off a hostile alien race to save their home planet from the brink of destruction, and end up spending the rest of their lives together.

Shiro hoped really, _really_ hard, after every watching, that he’d get a best friend like that someday, too.

For two grand years life was as normal and as happy as any little boy could wish for. Shiro’s parents saw their fair share of work hours put in, but they made sure to make time for their son, too: a kiss to the forehead in the middle of the night when they worked late; a bedtime story for when they didn’t; all their family-bonding activities in between. Of course his grandfather was always there to keep him company, if Shiro ever needed it.

Shiro had never felt so _complete_ before when it was just him and his grandfather, when his mothers were away. Something must have clicked into place the moment his parents came back into his life, anso it felt _good_. It felt _right_.

And suddenly--as the way it always goes--the day finally came.

 

* * *

 

“We need Takeshi Shirogane to come to the principal’s office. Immediately, please,” the man in the doorway announces. Shiro winces at the butchering of his first name, which is why he goes by Shiro now, _thank you._ The man is bald, tall, and is just large-looking in his crisp and clean uniform--he instantly recognizes that uniform: it’s the same as his moms'. 

Mrs. Hulse nods and turns to Shiro with widened eyes, an unfamiliar look upon her face. She moves with haste and shaky hands as she gathers his belongings for him, the _ohs_ and _ahs_ erupting from his classmates filling the room, speculation no doubt taking place as to how exactly he got into trouble this time.

When she finishes adjusting the straps on his backpack, silent all the while, Mrs. Hulse stops in front of Shiro, kneels down, and locks her eyes with his for a moment before wrapping him in one of the tightest hugs he's ever received. 

Shiro stands there, stunned, not understanding the reason for the sudden affection his teacher is displaying. When she finally lets go she looks at him again with a sad smile and even sadder eyes, and something in Shiro’s gut turns ice cold at the sight--like that time he fell off the monkey bars when he was five, trying (and failing) to impress his friends, and got the wind knocked out of him, breaking his right wrist I'm the process. Mama was driving while his mother would yell directions, all the while his wrist lay uncomfortably in his mom's lap. His mom would lock eyes with him every so often, reassuring him with soft touches as he'did scream in pain.

Only, somehow, this felt much, _much_ worse.

The walk to the office with the strange man is completely silent and devoid of conversation; the only sounds heard are the squeaking of his rocket ship light-up shoes as Shiro moves across the linoleum floor. Not once does the man acknowledge his presence, though, and that feeling in his gut worsens and leadens with each and every heavy step.

When they reach the outside of the office Shiro can see two other people in uniform through the glass, stances stiff and firm as they speak with both the principal and-

“ _Sofu?_ ” Shiro enters the room and addresses his grandfather directly. It's clear he's been crying; his eyes are red and puffy, and there's the occasional nose sniffling as the older man clutches his black beret tightly to his chest. There aren't any tears on his face, but if Shiro looks close enough he can make out the dried up tracks of the ones that had already ran down his cheeks. “What's wrong?”

“ _Takashi_ ” Shiro’s grandfather lets out in a hushed tone before his lower lip begins to quiver. He kneels down in front of Shiro and hugs him tight--identical to how Mrs. Hulse had a few minutes before. The inconsistent puffs of hot air against his ear make him uncomfortable as he stares blankly ahead; the room feels like it has no airflow, there are so many people in such a tiny space, an itch exists beneath his skin that he can't quite scratch, even if he had wanted to, because it’s not _actually_ an itch, and it's certainly not-

“I'm so sorry, my boy. I'm _so sorry.”_

 

* * *

It was all anyone talked about for the next few days--the hot topic for every news station, barely audible whispers as he passed strangers on the street--but Shiro just wanted it to stop.

If he remembers correctly: his mama was talking about the weather quite seriously that morning before school, his mother had nodded along with a lazy smile on her face as Shiro quite happily munched, munched, and slurped down his favorite cereal.

They were testing the latest model in space travel engineering for the first time that day--nothing special, they had done this sort of thing a few times before, just a simple exercise to gauge a few things--"If" this, and "What about" that.

Later that day, though.

Later that day. 

Peak altitude. Critical engine failure. Fire, smoke, explosion.

_Don't worry, they didn't feel any pain._

For a near decade that was all Shiro had heard--and felt.

His grandfather became his sole caretaker afterwards. He always did his best to make his grandson smile, more often than not succeeding in the matter with bad jokes and early morning fishing trips. Shiro kept dutifully to his studies, and when he told his grandfather he still wanted to be an astronaut he had nodded solemnly and gave Shiro his blessing.

At the age of 16, though, Shiro’s right hand had began acting strangely--spasming uncontrollably, seizing up completely at all the wrong times, the _pain_ -

Shiro was diagnosed with the same illness his grandmother had had when she was young.

“I'm afraid you'll never be a pilot," the doctor had said.

Upon hearing the news his grandfather took a seat and his gaze sank low to the ground, his hands cradling his head as he shook it back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

Shiro locked himself in his room for three long days and cried. Friends knocked on his door, his datapad abuzz. Lethargy he had become. 

A few years later he was outfitted with an experimental wrist-bound device that delivered electrical shocks to his muscles when they began to act up--and it _helped_. Hope was alive again and maybe, just maybe, his dream hadn't been shattered just quite yet.

At the age of 18 Shiro began his relationship with Adam--they had met a few years prior, had some of the same classes at the Garrison, but never interacted much with each other outside of shy greetings, group projects and longing gazes from across the room that always had the other blushing and turning his eyes away hurriedly. Adam came up to him at their graduation, asked him out, and after a few seconds of stammering Shiro had said "Okay."

They shared more or less the same likes, dislikes and passions. It was easy and comfortable, and for the time being Shiro almost forgot about the hole in his chest the size of the two most important people in his life.

At the age of 19 Shiro’s grandfather fell ill and soon after passed away. The one hand that had lifted him up time after time again had left him, and that clawed even further at the hurt in his heart, the hole growing in size considerably.

“Don't give up on yourself. You can do this,” he had said with a smile. “I know your parents would have thought so, too.”

He threw himself into his teaching and piloting with full focus then, excelling at both until he was the undisputed number one flyer in the whole Garrison compound. He’d walk the halls--to the cafeteria, his room, wherever--and be met with worshipping stare after worshipping stare, and grew more and more uncomfortable at each new one. Nevertheless he was always polite and charming, answering each and every question that was thrown his way by one or such pilot, always hopeful, with grace and sincerity.

"What's it like being in space?" an ignorant newbie would ask. "Can you tutor me?" another. "What were your parents like?"

That one usually left him silent, a polite smile on his face. 

At the age of 20 he met a young prodigy named Keith, whose eyes mirrored his own when he had learned of his disease all those years ago. Shiro vowed to help him in any way he could, and the two became fast friends, despite their… rocky start.

They raced together, worked on their hoverbikes together, talked together. It took some effort for Keith to really open up, but once he did it was like a dam crumbling around him, and he’d let the younger man go on and on and on. 

At the age of 21, 14 years after his parents’ accident, Shiro was offered to pilot the Kerberos mission--a literal dream come true. He trained nonstop, day in and day out, for a full year, receiving green light after green light.

Sam Holt, it would turn out, saves his hide in the end, recommending him beyond Shiro's illness. 

Shiro was so focused on the mission back then that he hadn't realized he wasn't reciprocating Keith’s hard-fought openness until Keith questioned him about it.

Keith supported Shiro’s decision to move forward with the mission, and wasn't that like Keith--always surprising him. Adam felt oppositely, and the two men broke it off, each keeping a respectable distance from the other as their lives moved on. It was hard, almoat undescribably, but ultimately worth it, Shiro thought. 

When the time came to test the model that he would be piloting in space all eyes were glued on him and him alone. The older officers gazed upon him with worry clear in their eyes, lips shut tightly as the words “Let's hope history doesn't repeat itself” threatened to slither their way out.

History did not repeat itself that day. 

And, as it turned out, Earth's history wouldn't be repeating itself for some time to come, either.

 

* * *

The shuttle shakes with the force of 3gs as it hurls itself out of Earth's stratosphere. Shiro can barely move a muscle, but he makes it a mission to gaze upon the one picture he had brought with him--it’s glued against the bulkhead in front and to the right of him, almost just out of his eyes’ reach. 

Shiro sees his mothers smiling down at him, the infant version of himself cradled between both of their laps, staring inquisitively above. He can’t help but smile as tears begin to form at the corners of his eyes, and he swears to himself-

He will defy the stars that shine so brilliantly above--those very same stars that had lured his parents to their unfortunate and untimely demises so many years before. He will fly further than any human has before--further than his own parents, in fact…

And, it might have taken him this long to get it, but…

He will do it with the courage, and with the strength, and with the _love_ his parents, grandfather and friends had given him, now an all-encompassing force of unending strength within himself.

Shiro closes his eyes and prays.

_Please watch over me._

**Author's Note:**

> @shiros-sprout on tumblr


End file.
